


Red Wine

by aohatsu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24230800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aohatsu/pseuds/aohatsu
Summary: “You’re a good woman, Miss Parker.”“May. You can call me by my first name you know. We’ve drunk a whole bottle of wine together.”“Two. And you should call me Pepper.”
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man)/Pepper Potts, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts (past)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28
Collections: The First Annual Femslash Kink Exchange 2020





	Red Wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/gifts), [GlassesOfJustice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesOfJustice/gifts).



> I just really wanted an excuse to write this ship. ♥

It’s the peeved irritation on May Parker’s face as she storms into Pepper’s office at nine in the evening on a Thursday night that has Pepper putting down the stack of papers she'd been reading through. “Miss Parker—” she begins before being interrupted with an irate, “Don't give me that. I’m looking for my nephew. He said he’d be home hours ago, and he isn’t picking up his phone!”

Pepper sighs and lifts a hand to rub at her temples, the low-grade headache she's had on-and-off all day threatening to become a migraine. “Of course Tony didn’t tell you anything and Peter didn’t remember to call.”

“Excuse me?” May asks, crossing her arms. She’s wearing a parka, snow still melting in the folds of the fabric and dripping on the floor. 

Pepper sighs. Maybe this is a sign that she should have gone home an hour ago instead of attempting to finish reading through the Moore contract proposal again.

“Tony’s jaunted off to Canada—something about an abominable snow man trying to destroy Quebec. Peter went with him.”

“He—he went to _Canada!?_ ” May yells, and then throws her hands up and drops down in the chair across from Pepper’s desk with the sort of aplomb that only comes from the exhaustion inherent in worrying about someone who enjoys regularly throwing themselves into life-threatening situations. At some point, the stress of it overrides all polite caution. It’s what Pepper has always had to put up with from Tony, though at least the full brunt of it had been her own choice for a time. For May Parker, this is her nephew running off to constantly dive into danger.

“Look, I’m sorry about the confusion,” she says. “Trust me, I’ll deal with Tony when they get back. I just—well, I have about as much luck controlling him as you seem to have controlling Peter.”

“Less and less the older he gets,” May says, and she doesn’t sound angry so much as beleaguered, slumping even further down in the chair and rubbing at her face.

“Quite the pair they make,” Pepper says. She isn’t sure if the stress and worry is lessened or increased now that they’re heading out into danger together rather than alone. Logic would dictate that two heads is better than one, but Pepper's limited experience watching Tony and Peter work together seems to lend to the idea that they're equally pig-headed and more likely than not to end up encouraging each other's lack of restraint. There's only half of a re-constructed lab on the basement level of the compound to prove it.

“Quite the pair _we_ make, you mean,” May sighs, “just trying to keep them out of trouble.”

“Touché, Miss Parker.” Abruptly, Pepper makes a decision. She’s exhausted and in no mood to keep working on the Moor contract tonight. “You know, it’s late. What do you say we both take the night off from trying to keep them out of trouble?”

May looks at her, eyebrows furrowed, mouth set in a frown. “What do you mean?”

“I have a lovely bottle of pinot noir that’s been calling my name since I had to sit through a three-hour accounting meeting earlier this afternoon. Incredibly important, incredibly draining. Do you care to join me? Drinking alone is more Tony’s style than it is mine.”

“Oh,” May says, and runs a hand through her hair. “I—yes. Yes, that sounds nice.”

The wine is a vintage red imported from France several years earlier. It's been sitting unopened, stored in Tony’s wine cellar, until Pepper had claimed it for the little wine cabinet on her personal floor in Stark Tower. Frankly, she needs the wine more than he does.

When she and Tony had called off the engagement, they'd both agreed they each needed their own space for when they were stuck at the tower on long working nights, even if they did both have off-site homes in the city and Tony preferred the couch in his lab.

Pepper laughs and slips back against the sofa, raising her glass so that none of the red liquid spills.

“I’m telling you,” May says, swallowing a gulp of wine, “I nearly had a heart attack. A woman should never have to walk in on her nephew doing that. I don’t think either of us could look each other in the eye for a week. I’ve knocked ever since.”

“I thought you found about his being Spider-Man when you walked in on him.”

May snorts and laughs again, “No, Peter just left his bedroom door wide open!”

“God. You know, I found out Tony was building the suit because I walked in on him after he came back sporting _bullet holes_? Bullet holes! He’ll drive me to an early death one day.” Her glass is empty, and she stares at it for a second before sighing. “My heart really can’t take the stress. It’s why we ended things. I just—can’t handle it. I can barely handle it now, let alone when I’m waiting for him to get home every night, wondering where he is, if he's even still alive.”

“I know. Trust me, I know. I’ve taken to checking in with Peter’s school every few days, just so I know he’s really in class and not swinging around the city because he thinks fighting bank robbers is more important than learning algebra.”

Pepper leans forward, conspiratorially, and says, “Well, I’ve seen some of the mathematical formulas that kid is working with in Tony’s lab. He might not be entirely wrong. High school level classes must be boring.” Even without Tony’s influence, Peter is a shoo-in for a job down in one of the R&D labs once he graduates college. With Tony there singing his praises, well, he’ll likely have his own lab before the graduation ceremony is even being planned.

May huffs a laugh. “He’s too smart for his own good. Smarter than me or Ben by the time he was twelve. Gets it from his parents. Ben and I hardly knew what to do when he was asking us for circuits and computer chips for Christmas instead of baseballs and CDs. Thank God he’s still happy to get Lego sets or I'd have to resort to gift cards.”

“You seem smart enough to me,” Pepper says, raising her glass. “Don’t let them fool you with all that technical… jibber jabber that they like to do.”

May raises an eyebrow. “Jibber jabber?”

“I may have drunk more wine than I’d been intending to,” Pepper admits.

“No, no—we’ve drunk exactly the amount we knew we were drinking.”

“Ah, a loophole. See, you’re smart.”

May leans against her, her body soft and warm and tantalizingly close. She sighs, closing her eyes. “I just have to be smart enough to take care of my kid. I put dinner on the table, buy him the clothes that he needs. That’s enough. If I could just get him to text me before leaving the country to fight abominable snow men of all things, I'd be satisfied.”

“You’re a good woman, Miss Parker.”

“May. You can call me by my first name you know. We’ve drunk a whole bottle of wine together.”

“Two. And you should call me Pepper.”

“One and a half. There’s still some left in that bottle,” May says, gesturing at the second bottle sitting atop the coffee table in front of them.

Pepper squints at it, and then laughs when May squints back at her over the rims of her glasses. Her hair has crept up Pepper’s shoulder due to their proximity, the static helping the long strands to cling to Pepper’s blouse. They stand out against the white, but not quite as well as the bright red of her fingernail polish where her hand is pressed to Pepper’s thigh, creasing her skirt.

“May,” she says, her voice low.

“Mm, yes,” May says, and she shifts just the barest scant bit of space closer.

“We shouldn’t,” Pepper says, because there’s no point in arguing the subtle shift in the air around them, the warmth of May’s skin, the intensity of the knowledge that her hand is pressed against Pepper’s outer thigh, just a bit of thin, silky-soft dorsilk material between her palm and Pepper’s skin.

“It’s a bad idea,” May agrees, but she presses closer, her long hair falling over her shoulder and brushing against Pepper’s.

“Well,” Pepper murmurs and shifts forward, previous token protest cast aside as she abandons her wine glass on the side table to slide her hand against May’s hip instead, “maybe it’s our turn to give into a bad idea.”

“Sounds fair to me,” May breathes out, and then they both press forward, their lips sliding seamlessly together. Pepper groans, May soft and solid against her, her mouth soft and wet and tasting of the red wine they’d just been drinking.

May gives an encouraging sigh when Pepper slides her lips down her throat, sucking wetly at the skin and lifting up to settle heavy over May’s body, bracketing her in. May’s hands run down Pepper’s legs, sliding up under her skirt until the material bunches unattractively around her thighs, the pencil-cut style too tight to be pushed up any further.

Huffing out a laugh, she stands on wobbly legs and quickly unzips, letting her skirt drop to the floor while May watches, her eyes dark but wide as though she doesn’t want to miss what Pepper is inviting her to watch. Heat pools in Pepper's lower belly. She hasn’t undressed for anyone in more than a year; hasn’t wanted anyone to see her this way since she and Tony called off the engagement, all those sleepless nights of worry and anger and frustration finally too much for her to keep denying the truth that was right in front of her.

Tony, as much as she loved him, wasn’t enough for her. Not when she never knew if he’d be home in time to come to bed, to eat dinner and settle with her on the couch with a movie and a glass of wine. In the end, she wasn’t enough for him to stop putting himself in danger; wasn’t enough to stop putting on that suit and fighting who knew what, day after day, and the stress of waiting for him to not come back was too much. They weren't good for each other and the writing had been on the wall long enough.

But she wants May Parker to see her now.

She pulls her blouse off, dropping it on top of the skirt. She sees the way May’s eyes drop to her breasts, tracing the soft lines of her bra, the same color as her skin and made of thin, simple lace—chosen for comfort and support rather than to catch and please a partner’s eye.

May looks back up to Pepper’s face. She stands up and swiftly pulls off her t-shirt, sliding her hands down her soft stomach to hook her thumb under the button of her jeans and deftly unsnap it. She pushes them down her thighs, keeping her eyes up, watching Pepper until she steps out of them, left in nothing but a cotton pair of underwear and simple black cotton bra.

Pepper takes a forward step, moving back into May’s space.

“You have freckles,” May says, voice soft. She has a small smile. She brings a hand up to slide her knuckles down along Pepper’s arm, so softly that Pepper can’t stop from shivering at the touch.

“I do. Runs in the family.”

Pepper puts a hand on May’s hips, her skin soft and smooth from years of eating well but not spending many hours in the gym. It’s a good look on her, makes Pepper want to press her mouth against her stomach and bite at the skin, leave a wet trail from her navel to the space between her breasts and back down to the tantalizing spot hidden beneath black cotton and between soft thighs.

Pepper’s own hips are narrow, skinny; she has a very small window of weight that she can afford to lose before her body slides away from curves and into sharp angles. It’s hard to keep track, sometimes, when she has more paperwork than desk space, more phone conferences than time in the day.

“Kiss me again,” she says, pressing her fingers hard into May’s hips, drawing her forward until she’s close enough to really feel.

“Since you asked,” May breathes against her. Their mouths meet again, still soft, still wet, still tasting of wine and this slow, welcoming piece of something new between them.

They stumble against the couch, May sitting back down and Pepper climbing back on top of her, shaking out her hair when a strand gets caught in the clip of her bra, May’s eager fingers drawing the bra off and away, running red, rounded fingernails over the freckles on her breasts. “I’ve wanted to touch you since we opened that second bottle,” May says, and then kisses her again, her teeth catching on Pepper’s lip.

Pepper slides a hand into her hair, tugging until she has enough purchase to ravage her mouth, all wet heat and biting hunger, too keyed up now to keep kissing so slow when she wants more; wants May inside her or as close as she can manage.

Pepper groans out a soft sigh when May pulls her mouth away from Pepper’s, ducking her head and running her tongue over one of the areola and nipple. Pepper rocks forward, pressing into the warmth of her mouth, watching with heavy eyes as May works her mouth over her breasts.

“You’re beautiful,” May hums, breath cascading warm over Pepper’s wet nipple. She glances up at Pepper with a near-feral grin and grasps at the material of her underwear, tugging them down Pepper’s legs. “Much hotter than _People_ knows.” Pepper huffs out a laugh— _People_ magazine had labeled her as _the fourth hottest businesswoman in America_ just two weeks ago.

“As if that’s a label I needed from them,” she answers, smoothly lifting one knee, then the other, and May slides her underwear the rest of the way off, letting them drop to the floor.

Then she presses a hand up against the mound between Pepper’s thighs, nothing but blunt pressure that makes Pepper’s eyelids flutter as she rocks forward again and spreads her legs wider, sinking down further. It takes one more awkward shifting of their bodies before May is raising her hips and pushing her underwear down off to be discarded along with Pepper’s, her bra following short thereafter, revealing heavy, soft breasts with round pink areolas and large, erect nipples.

Pepper rubs May’s nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, rocking forward against the heel of May’s hand. She can feel the sticky, wet between her thighs, and when May slips a finger in-between the folds of her cunt, she can’t help but gasp, “That’s good, yeah. Keep—a little higher. Perfect.”

May rubs the pads of her fingers roughly and expertly against Pepper’s clit. Pepper winces once when a nail presses too close, but she grabs May’s wrist and May shifts in a way that has Pepper closing her eyes and dropping her head down to the brunette’s shoulder, breath coming in pants as her hips press forward in shaky little jerks of movement. “Just a bit more,” she says—nearly a plea against the skin of May’s neck.

Oh, God, the slippery fast movements of May’s fingers are pushing her toward the edge quicker than she’s gotten herself there in months, maybe even longer. She lets her mouth hang open, teeth grazing May’s skin. She jerks her hips harder and May urges her, says, “Come on, I’ve got you. You’re so wet you’re dripping down my wrist. I want to get my mouth on you after this, you must taste amazing.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Pepper curses. She shoves forward and holds the position as she feels herself falling over the edge, clinging to May as her legs tense up stiffly, reaching for that peak of sensation.

She slides over after a long, heavy moment, her inner-thighs coated in wetness and trembling from the effort of sitting up on her knees while she reaches orgasm, having already worked all day and drank half a bottle of wine or more. Lazily, she gestures for May to follow her.

“Your turn,” she says, and May doesn’t hesitate to shift over her, cunt glistening with wetness mixed into the dark, trimmed hair around the lips of it. Pepper swallows and gets a good grip on May’s thick thighs, pulling her down until she can slide her tongue up into that welcoming heat.

Soft like silk, so wet it’s slippery against her face. Within seconds, her mouth, cheeks and chin are a mess, coated with tangy wetness but she just pushes up harder, finding the nub of May’s clit and wrapping her lips around it to gently suck, then harder when May’s thighs tighten and she pants, her breasts heaving with every breath.

She’s holding onto the arm of the couch tightly, her eyes closed and her face tipped backward. Pepper flicks her tongue against her clit, pushing against it hard, then harder. May starts cursing, a stream of them flying out of her mouth as she tightens her fists into the couch and her thighs tremble with the effort of staying open around Pepper’s head.

“Please, fuck, _fuck_.” May falls forward and Pepper smoothly slides out from under her before collapses. After a long minute while they both catch their breath—and Pepper wipes off her face with a cloth she’d brought over with the first bottle of wine—she says, “Well, I’ll have to get this couch cleaned.”

“I guess you can’t just turn over the cushions,” May mutters, eyes closed where she’s still sitting, slumped over.

Pepper laughs, and says, “No, they’re definitely attached. But it was worth it.”

May smiles, opening her eyes to squint back at Pepper. She’d never taken her glasses off.

“What do you think of doing it again?”

Pepper startles, looking at her. She’s still naked, glasses resting on the tip of her nose, brown hair sliding over her warm, soft, pale shoulder. Her breasts are tantalizing, just resting there, eager for touch. May teasingly widens the space between her legs, the wet heat of her cunt immediately, easily, drawing Pepper’s eyes.

Pepper watches her slip a finger down, down, and sink into the wet, moist hole. Her eyes slide closed before she pulls her hand back and away. She wipes her fingers against her stomach.

Pepper clears her throat.

“I have a bedroom.”

May smiles.

“Good.”

Peter finally texts May at half past two in the morning, _omw, totally webbed a giant yeti!!_ followed shortly by, _sry forgot to text i was gonna be late_ , and a third: _r u at the tower? Karen says u are._

Pepper reads them over May’s shoulder, resting her chin against her new… friend.

“Why don’t you just tell him to stay the night on Tony's floor,” she suggests, only in part because she’s not ready for May’s solid presence and soft warmth to leave her bed just yet. “You can sleep, take a shower in the morning and then take him home.”

“That sounds like another bad plan,” May says. “He’ll think permission to stay overnight with Tony is me forgiving him for going to motherfucking _Canada_ without a word. To fight a yeti.”

Pepper coughs out a laugh and says, “Be nice. Give the kid a bit of hope.”

The last message on May’s phone before they both slide back under the sheets, arms wrapped around each other, is _We'll meet you for breakfast in the morning._


End file.
